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Maybe it was teenage rebellion or following the customs of his brothers before him. Maybe Nala Se had made a few too many comments, been a little too proud of how closely Hunter could pass for a reg - with his rounded face, dark brown hair, and amber-flecked eyes. But whatever the reason, one day Hunter showed up with a stretch of black ink across his jaw, curving up the side of his face and distorting with the tug of his lips when he took in the displeased hum of the kaminoan scientist staring down at him.
His skin, red and slightly raised around the fresh tattoo, pulsed uncomfortably when he talked or brush against it - a reminder of the permanent stain now adorning his face. He stood out from the regs now, just like his brothers - with Wrecker's distorted scar, Crosshair's faded pale hair, Tech's uncanny watchful eyes, and every other tiny irregular detail that made the batch press a little closer together than regulations mandated, when they joined their vode in their uniform troupes.
As he grew, Hunter's face had become less and less like the crowds around him - his eyes sunk into deep-set circles and his nose curved at a steep angle that gave him a severe look despite his warm smile. Every new attribute hunter added - the vivid bandana, the unruly long hair - was to draw more attention to his distinct face, to the features neither he nor his brothers shared with the rest.
When Tech had woken the batch one night, proudly brandishing a haphazardly- constructed machine - and smeared with spilled ink across his arms, torso, and face - Hunter was the first to accept the offer. They spent 3 nights scrawling out designs between training and examinations, until Hunter settled on the idea - a jawbone right across his own.
They had sat at awkward angles on Tech's bunk - propped up with the bedding from all four beds to allow hunter to comfortably rest his head in Tech's lap as he drew steady lines across his brother's face - for 2 hours by the intrusive light of Crosshair's torch. Wrecker moved impatiently around the room chatting endlessly, Crosshair perched on the bunk above them - periodically chiming in with Wrecker's constant stream of comments - as the picture slowly appeared on Hunter's face, distracting their hypersensitive brother from the needles embedding ink into his skin.
Tech clapped his brother on the shoulder and handed him a small mirror to inspect the new emblem, shifting to lean against the wall and stretch out his cramped hands. Hunter remained in his position against the heap of bedding, turning his face every- which-way in the mirror and running a tentative finger across the fresh ink. He grinned and glanced up to his brothers circled around him - "not bad eh? Hurts like a bitch though" . Tech hummed an indignant noise and shot a look that said well if you had stayed still I could have been more precise. Wrecker beamed and reached out to touch the tattoo, retreating at Hunter's slight flinch - his hand hovered in front of him as he fawned over Hunter and teased Crosshair for his clear discomfort at the idea of having needles so close to his face.
It was hard to sleep with the stinging pain along his jaw and the nervous excitement that buzzed in his chest. Hunter kicked at Crosshair's leg hung casually over the edge on the bunk above him and waited as the leg disappeared and bedding rustled. Flourescent eyes peered from above him as Crosshair draped himself into Hunter's space and lowered himself in an awkward pile of gangly limbs. As his brother settled across the bunk from him, Hunter began to muse aloud about how the long necks will react to this and what other designs Tech will come up with.
Crosshair only spoke a few times to stoke Hunter's aimless drabble, sometimes pursing his lips or twisting his toothpick in lieu of comment. When Hunter finally began to yawn and fidget, Crosshair pulled him down to lay against him, chin resting on the nest of messy curls, and waited for his brother to fall asleep. Crosshair didn't sleep that night, gazing around at the unlit slate-grey walls, ceiling, and floor - watching his brothers shift restlessly in their bunks. He mulled over possible tattoos for himself, a snide laugh escaping at the thought of proving Wrecker wrong with a tattoo directly over his eye - though it made him squirm to think of the needle slipping and catching him...maybe just a simple line tattoo. He flicked away his splintered toothpick and settled against the sparse bedding of Hunter's bunk, patiently waiting for morning to bring the ever-satisfying disappointment of Nala Se and her owlish prying eyes.